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In Americans,

nothing Trump's emotion

like the Rock?
Who saw Dwayne Johnson's response to the DNC in Ballers this season?
Masuda Khan Juti Apr 2017
She took two photos of these elephant paper weights. He observed. He said something about how finely detailed they were. They smiled. He had grey eyes. “Where you from?”
“What brings you here?”
“Gap year?”
So many question. Two souls hungry to know more about the other.
“The south is really nice”
“Yeah listening closely, you do have a slight Italian accent! ”
They talked.
She pointed back at the elephants. “They’re for instagram.” She really hoped he was on Instagram.
“You on Instagram?”
He curled his lips. Regret it seemed.
“Well I’m on Facebook. But I also write letters.”
She said something like she thought that was cool or that that was awesome.  It wasn’t clear for her either. All she  was thinking sadly was that she couldn’t give him her address! They’d just met!
Her cousin interrupted. They were going to get icecream. She hastily said bye. It all happened so quick. She blurted out that she wished he had a great life ahead. He nodded. She wrinkled her nose. She left. He stood there. And like the movies she looked back. But as real life is not in slow motion, the last smile she gave was short and it didn’t give her time to change her mind. And maybe stay back. Not have icecream.

That she is I.

That he is that boy

I met at the shop

where they sell...

elephant paper weights.
I'LL NEVER EVER FORGIVE MYSELF FOR NOT HAVING GIVEN HIM MY ADDRESS
theblndskr Aug 2015
Let me tell you the story of my death:

Carving words on the bark of a tree
A poem that means life to me.
Glows through night, my soul delights!

        "Exist beyond my death, oh please...
            So I could live in bliss at least."


But they cut the tree, so mindlessly
Illegally. Damn, selfishly!
In chainsaw, I was murdered.

        A massacre,
      ... a massacre of my every being!!


I'm a ghost that forgot, the best in me
Now writes relentlessly
To relive the words, once killed in greed
I found the "
papers*", the poems you lead...

Then before me, is some piece of me
they killed.

I died a hero,
Readers who found their hearts, in death of the writers. Is but ONE.
Andrew Sep 2017
I'm the paper man
I witnessed you drop your papers
And refused to help
Because I'm a rolling paper
I'm never stationary
When I float in paper planes
My life starts tearing
When your presence equals pain
For I only saw you
With my paper view
We couldn't be two
When you're pay-per-view
I live a paper life
When the date never leaves the calendar
And people enjoy the satisfaction of cutting me
Like I'm construction paper
So I build to block them away
My face becomes paper mache
Searching for another way
I found relief in a bottle in a paper bag
It wasn't long until I saw the red flags
In the government serving me my papers
Even though I denounced them as takers
They kept pushing paper
My life regimented by municipalities
Burying me in paperwork
Like the employment I attained
To make my life spill off the page
And bleed into your's
Otherwise
Life's a paper chore
And the pirates keep stealing papyrus
That's alright
I've become the paper King Midas
I crave paper
I long for its smooth space
Open fields of hidden words
Carriers of life
Forever anticipating the touch of a hand
The caress of a pen
Judging not content
nor the needy desire to speak
through silence
Nassif Younes Feb 2016
Yeah.
That’s it.
Give it to me.
Oh yeah.
Just like that.
Wait.
What?
No!

What happened?
Are you getting nervous?
Self-conscious?
Do I look like a fucking mirror?
You’re going too slow
And it’s giving my stomach time
To stretch.
You’ll never be done at this rate.
You’re creating a monster
And you won’t like me
When I’m like that.
You’d better give me something soon
Or else
I’m going to scare all the women out of your bed
From under
Your bed.

Oh, come on,
Is that the best you’ve got?
Are you a skylight
In a blind man’s house?
Do you live in a universe with padded walls?
You have to let go.
Now.
You have to
Let your mind lose you.
If that pencil lasts long enough for you
To memorise the serial number on its side,
You’re done.
If you aren’t getting caught in a web
Of sharpenings
When you try to stretch your legs
You’re done.

It’s just the two of us now.
My lines are the bars
Of your empty cage
And whether or not there’s light in between
Is entirely up to you.
You think everything you say will be wrong
But there’s only one way to know
And we both know
That there is nothing more wrong
Than doing nothing.
I will make that perfectly clear to you.
If you do nothing
I will stare at you with my blank, blinding white
Look of symmetrical disapproval
Until your eyes burn out
And all you can think to do
In your helpless, hapless malaise
Will be to strike a match
And burn me black
Making sure we both hit the dirt
At the same time.

Now,
We don’t want that, do we?
Good.
So come on, my darling
Let’s go somewhere quiet
And you give me that
Rough and careless touch
You know I love the most.

I may never laugh
And I may never cry
But you will.
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